


Remember

by greyamber



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-26
Updated: 2011-03-26
Packaged: 2017-10-17 07:11:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyamber/pseuds/greyamber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP. After the war was over, Legolas and Gimli talked about their friend who’s gone on the tower of the white city. Slightly AU, since the horn of Gondor was actually broken in the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters and the world belong to Tolkien, I don’t own none of them…actually I myself want to belong to their world too.  
> Warning: No Slash. But hint for Legolas / Boromir …and Legolas / Gimli, if you squint; ruefully unbetaed. And I really need some one to do this hard work. So if anyone interests, , please let me know.

Three hours after Midnight, the feast was still lasting. The first feast after Sauron’s defeat and king’s return. The first night belonged to all of those free races in Middle Earth.

Legolas was standing on the white tower, facing to east.

The sun would rise soon.

But before that moment of sunrise, the Dwarf was up to the tower first.

“Crazy Elf,” he grumbled, “One moment you were dancing madly on the table as if you were made of that wild music, next moment you stood here and burst into tears.”

“I’ve not cried.” The Elf protested.

“Yeah. You just wiped them away.”

 

Silence stretched. Legolas turned left to let his friend stood beside him, and then the Dwarf caught what in his friend’s hand – A silver horn. Now it reflected the starlight, soon it would glinting under the sun dance.

“It is the same style to Boromir’s.” Gimli’s voice softened, almost dimmed to a murmur. The Elf simply nodded.

“Unlike the other race,” the Elf hesitated but continued, “There’s no barrier between Elves and sorrow of shadow, or delight of feat.” His voice turned odd, “He always talked about his homeland, his people, his father’s realm and his little brother. And now those who survive are happy for there final win. I doubt how many of them will remember of the oldest son of Denethor, heir dead former steward, almost king.”

The Elf’s gaze never left the horn.

Gimli sighed. Yes. Men. Dwarves. The other races could change fade with time, only Elves mot. He weighed his words in mind, then said, “Ye my friend, sweet Elf. The night will bury our sadness along with the dead under the ground, and next day will be a new one.”

But there’s no mortal sleep to fresh the past for us. The Elf answered quietly. Legolas squeezed that horn. “Their music remind me of his horn. I can nearly see him standing there every morning of Minas Tirith, proud and fair.”

“He was always in the shape of a son of the men.”

“Can you remember, my friend, once in Moria, when he raised the horn and blew, hundreds of Orcs were stilled, even Balrog’s shadow was stopped too?”

Gimli nodded. That’s the darkest memory for the fellowship, the echo of that horn sounded like the shout of many throats under the cavernous roof, loud but remote. Now, the sun was rising.

“It is my honor.”

Legolas said briefly. The Dwarf swallowed on that conclusion. Then much to his surprise, nervously but determined, the Elf raised the silver horn.

And blew.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At the end of the fourth Age, the One – the Lord of all rings was carried by the fellowship and unmade in Mordor. There were nine companies of the ringbearers. A wizard, four Hobbits, an Elf, a Dwarf, and two men. One was the king of Minas Tirith late. The other, it was said that he was killed for defense of the Hobbits, and was buried in a Elfish boat, which went along Anduin the river at the sunset into the Great Sea.

But the tale had its flaw.

Some people in his country swore that Boromir son of the Gondor never fell. They said that he returned his homeland after all, for the morning after their first feast’s night, they heard his horn sang. They saw him on the white tower shining in the golden sunlight, as he used to.

 

END


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